


Tired

by ZiLCH_SjG



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU where dirk is daves kid and dave sucks so so much, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22525714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiLCH_SjG/pseuds/ZiLCH_SjG
Summary: It's not a teenage phase of hating your parents because it's cool; it's a problem that has followed you since you were a little kid. And you're tired of it.
Relationships: Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider & Dirk Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Tired

It’s not anything new to you that your dad despises you. You’re never too sure why he had kids in the first place-- “Always looked forward to it,” --but was disappointed when the kid he had wasn’t willing to bend to his every beck and call.

As if your back isn’t broken under him, anyway.

In short, it pisses you off. In less short, it didn’t always piss you off; it used to just downright scare you. The tone of voice, bordering on angry--every kid knows it (but shouldn’t)--that says ‘if we weren’t in public right now, you can bet your ass I’d be beating the shit out of you’. And all over because you laughed about squashed fruit in the produce aisle.

You’ve gotten used to it though, which is a painful thing to admit. The normalisation of a scary thing now just makes you tired; you’re tired of him struggling to keep his inside voice, you’re tired of wanting to be anywhere but near him, you’re tired of being scared to look at his face when he bares his teeth. You’re tired of it, you’re tired. But if you ever said that you are, nevermind why, you’d have a new thing to learn to be tired about. So he keeps it up.

A lot of the time, it’s jarring. Any number of days--weeks--can go by without him even showing so much as a spark. The time ticks onwards without a care in the world, and willingly, you follow it. You, at certain points, could even dare to say that you have a good relationship, that you get on. That maybe, just maybe, he cares about you. That if you suddenly went missing one day, he’d search for you. Cry about it, even.

And then, after sixteen days of boundless energy, you’re suddenly tired again.

You love showering, or just being in the water. You’re a powerful swimmer and you take ages in the bathroom. It’s more than just concerts, arguments and wild stories that voice themselves in the steaming cubicle. When you’re tired, and decide to shower surprisingly early, it’s out of habit. There’s nothing left to do; you don’t exactly have the implied need of privacy before showering, so, under the water and in there for as long as you can excuse yourself.

Relaxed in the heat, it’s harder to cry but not hard enough. If he just wasn’t so fucking difficult, you’d never feel like this. You’d never be familiar with the feeling. You’d never even be able to wrap your head around the concept of it if another person explained it to you.

Another person, huh.

Obviously, there are plenty of kids out there, just your age, who have terrible parents. Probably more than one, too, which must suck so much harder. Probably parents who are nastier, who know where it hurts, how to hit it, and do it more than emotionally.

Why can’t you find them. Why can’t they find you. Why are you alone in this.

You should feel lucky. You’re a famous movie director’s kid. You don’t exactly have your own name up in lights, but it’s certainly got some spotlight on it. People know your name, your face; “That’s Dave Strider’s kid!”, but sometimes you wish they didn’t. You’d give anything to just be normal. To be a normal kid in a normal house, in a normal world.

You suppose the modern standard of ‘normal’ is different in the minds of different people. For you, you just want a guardian who would fucking love you. Who wouldn’t make you step on eggshells, laugh when you cut your feet, and then get mad at you for stepping blood all over the place. You just want a normal guy to be there.

He disgusts you, though.

Even if you met a different version of him from a different universe, or some different branching of time, his face, identity, his whole shtick is tainted. You don’t want to know; you don’t want to hear it. You honestly, sometimes, don’t even want to look at him. You’d be better off not knowing he exists. He could be the loveliest guy, the most caring and adoring guardian in the world and you still wouldn’t give him a chance. You don’t want to be associated with him. Maybe it’s selfishness that you never have admitted to yourself, but you’ll rule it out.

Still, the fantasy of two arms and a shoulder being on offer 24/7, available whenever you need it, isn’t something you can just let go of. It doesn’t even have to be the full apparition; it would probably be better if it wasn’t. Just two arms. A shoulder. The most half-finished, unfulfilling hug in the universe and it would satisfy you.

“I fucking hate you,” you’d whisper into the soggy shoulder of his scratchy suit, “I hate you so fuckin’ much and you don’t deserve it because you’re not him but I can’t see past that because he’s so awful and did so many terrible things to me and you haven’t but I can’t know any better.”

Would the full-bodied apparition understand, be empathetic and even if just for a night, be kind to you? Would he turn away at the words (you wouldn’t blame him)? Would he take you in, away to another universe, never to see your hometown again (you’d love that)?

The fantasies are endless. Possibilities at zero. The cause is tiring and you want it to end. But it’s nothing new.


End file.
